The nails and
silver ornaments flashed here and there as my companion moved
past them with a lamp in his hand. At the lower end of the place
he stopped, pointed to a niche, and said, "He lies there, between
his father and mother." I looked a little further on, and saw
what appeared at first like a long dark tunnel. "That is only an
empty niche," said the priest, following me. "If the body of Mr.
Stephen Monkton had been brought to Wincot, his coffin would have
been placed there."
A chill came over me, and a sense of dread which I am ashamed of
having felt now, but which I could not combat then. The blessed
light of day was pouring down gayly at the other end of the vault
through the open door. I turned my back on the empty niche, and
hurried into the sunlight and the fresh air.
As I walked across the grass glade leading down to the vault, I
heard the rustle of a woman's dress behind me, and turning round,
saw a young lady advancing, clad in deep mourning. Her sweet, sad
face, her manner as she held out her hand, told me who it was in
an instant.
"I heard that you were here," she said, "and I wished--" Her
voice faltered a little. My heart ached as I saw how her lip
trembled, but before I could say anything she recovered herself
and went on: "I wished to take your hand, and thank you for your
brotherly kindness to Alfred; and I wanted to tell you that I am
sure in all you did you acted tenderly and considerately for the
best.
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